


Gentlemen Prefer Blonds

by auchic



Category: Alias
Genre: M/M, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-13
Updated: 2012-11-13
Packaged: 2017-11-18 14:02:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/561842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auchic/pseuds/auchic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes dreams do come true; you just can't control which ones do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gentlemen Prefer Blonds

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for lunasky Deflowering _Alias_ Challenge. The requirements were:
> 
> 1\. The fic must be NC-17  
> 2\. The fic must be centered around at least 1 Alias Character  
> 3\. The fic must be about a first sexual act.

Eric Weiss had always had a thing for blondes, so he wasn't THAT surprised when he first dreamt about having sex with Sark. It was when Sark became the only damned thing on his mind that Eric started to get worried. 

The first dream he justifiably blamed on Sydney and alcohol. During one of their tequila soaked conversations, one of them (he wasn’t quite sure who; they were both pretty toasted) started on the topic of forbidden sexual fantasies. At first they’d been pretty tame, mostly stories about having random sex on the conference table at the Ops Center with various agents, but as the night went on and on and they drank more and more, the ideas left the land of rationality and descended into a level of perversity that Eric hadn’t heard of since his college years. After he had shared a particularly warped vision involving the meek girl who worked in Research and duct tape, Sydney blurted out that she’d been having a recurring dream about Sark. She went on to describe the kinkiest ordeal he’d ever heard, complete with vivid imagery. By the time she got to the part with the harness and leash, his mouth was hanging open and his eyes bugging out of his head as he wondered how sweet little Sydney Bristow could know all those things. Not to mention he suddenly needed to get rid of all the clothing below his waist. In a quick bout of sobriety, Sydney had swore to turn him into a eunuch if he spoke of it again and after a couple more drinks, they’d passed out on her couch. Eric woke up in the morning upside down, hung over, and images of Sark wearing only a pair of skintight leather pants while handcuffing a naked Eric to the bed burning in the back of his brain. He’d stood in the shower and swore to himself never to talk about sex when drinking with Sydney again. 

The second dream, three weeks later, he was able to attribute to violent indigestion. He’d made dinner for him and Syd, a nice Italian meal, and for dessert he had made huge ice cream sundaes with marshmallow topping and hot fudge to drizzle over it. Miraculously they’d ended the night sober and after watching the sports highlights on ESPN, Eric had gone to bed. Suddenly he had been naked and skintight leather Sark was pouring hot fudge on his torso. Then the blond had started to lick it off. Eric had woken up just before Sark’s mouth had licked the chocolate off his raging erection. He wasn’t quite sure if he was disturbed or disappointed. He just blamed it on bad ice cream and swore off dairy products for a little while. Just until Sark got out of his dreams. 

Try as he might, though, he couldn’t really blame the third dream on, well, anything except himself. It had been a quiet Sydney, alcohol, and dairy free evening in front of the TV. He’d just been surfing through channels, watching shows here and there. Eric had a huge crush on Marilyn Monroe, so when he saw that TCM was showing “Some Like It Hot”, he had watched her for a few minutes before flipping over to “Gone in Sixty Seconds”. He’d gone to bed and expected to see Angelina Jolie and her luscious lips, but immediately he was lying naked in Jack Lemmon’s bunk on the train. Only instead of Marilyn crawling in with him, Sark appeared. As his lips caressed Eric’s in a gentle manner, those long tapered fingers had brushed down the bulkier man’s body, whipping him into a sexual frenzy. Eric woke up completely sated and resigned to his fate; he couldn’t stop dreaming about Sark. 

It wasn’t as if Eric had ever done any of those things in real life, other than the usual college experimentation shit. He just chalked it up to normal healthy sexual fantasizing. Hell, everyone around him had probably had the same type of dreams; maybe Sark wasn’t the special guest star for them, but that was just a technicality. He just sat back and accepted it and kept his mouth shut. 

Of course, life just had to throw a few curveballs in there. Since Sark swore up and down that he knew nothing about Sydney’s disappearence, and since he’d been pretty helpful lately, what with being in their custody for three years, Dixon and the higher ups had relented and occasionally Sark was brought up to the Ops center for certain missions. When he’d been confined in that little cell, it had been so much easier for Eric: he didn’t look at the nice surveillance video and he had no reason to go down there and start chatting, so his Sark-views were limited. But now that Sark was working with him and Syd, giving them intel or working specs for certain missions, Eric had to see the guy at least once a day. As if he needed the mental stimulation; after about a month of Sark showing up in his dreams at night, the blond actually began making cameos in his daydreams. Eric was frantic at first, imagining himself having tons of conversations laden with double innuendos, but the first meeting had calmed his fears. There wasn’t a chance for him to say something potentially embarrassing; Sark barely said a word outside of occasional comments. And Eric sure as hell wasn’t going to strike up a conversation. He’d leave that for dream world. 

So Eric just kept on dreaming about Sark at night and working with him during the day. After all, it wasn’t like he was really _working_ with Sark; he was like a computer they used. A sexy, blond computer that did marvelous things for leather and Armani, but a computer nonetheless. As long as they kept their relationship professional, there was no need to worry about the dreams. Right?

**********************************************************

“Eric, come on, she’s really nice. Plus, she’s a hockey freak. You’re not going to find a lot of those in L.A.”

Eric held the door open for Sydney as they walked into the conference room. After her months of Vaughn-mourning, she had decided she’d try embracing the single life for a while. Unfortunately, ‘embracing the single life’ in Sydney-speak really meant ‘I’m bored, so I’m going to play matchmaker for Eric.’ He’d just about used his entire quota of excuses, but it seemed like Sydney had an endless list of single friends in the L.A. region that, quote, “would be dying to meet a sensitive, thoughtful, fun guy like him.” And the girl complained that she had no social life. His own list of friends that he was still in contact with was _nothing_ compared to the plethora of people she knew. 

He pulled out a chair for her and then plopped down beside her. “Sorry, Syd, but…”

“Oh no, don’t you start with the excuses again. I’ve looked at your day planner; you’ve got nothing coming up this weekend. Why not give it a try? You’ll really like her!”

“Syd, no offense, but I’m not cool with this whole blind date, getting set up thing. Makes for awkward evenings. I’m putting my foot down: no more setting Eric up.”

She looked so crestfallen that he felt horrible. “Come on, Bristow, don’t give me that.”

She shook her head. “I don’t get it Eric. You’re a great guy, yet you’re happy to spend the rest of your life alone, being my shoulder to cry on and my drinking buddy? That’s no life for such a swinging bachelor.”

“Look, all I’m saying is not now. I’m not really looking for a relationship anytime soon. And I like having you as a drinking buddy. You furnish the good stuff.”

She punched him in the shoulder, and he grabbed her wrist, but before he could coerce her into a mercy fight, the door opened and the rest of the team came in. Eric gave her a warning look, one that said she’d pay for beating on him later before facing Dixon and putting on his game face. 

He listened to the discussion of old news, the report Lauren was working on for the NSC, blah blah blah. Eric stared blankly ahead and let his mind wander. It was late spring, and the weather was getting warmer every day. Maybe this weekend he’d go to the beach, do a little surfing, check out all the hot girls in bikinis…he blinked back inside when the talk switched to a new topic.

“…as you know, Sark has been very helpful these past months…” Dixon was saying.

Ah. Sark. Sark on beach, in a pair of wet trunks. Eric could see it now: standing together on the dunes, the wind whipping the blond curls around, those blue eyes getting darker as he leaned in for a kiss…Eric was completely lost in his fantasy when everyone turned his way.

“…shouldn’t be a problem for you, should it, Agent Weiss?”

He jolted, then shook his head as he realized the room was staring at him. His face flamed red when he noticed that everyone was waiting for an answer to some question, and here he’d been dreaming about making out with Sark on a beach. In swim trunks. “Uh…who with the what now huh?”

Dixon looked slightly pissed. “As I said, having Sark live with you shouldn’t be a problem.”

He could feel all the blood drain out of his face. “Ummm…you want Sark. To live with me. Wha…why me?” He looked around the room and surveyed the candidates: the Vaughns, Marshall, Dixon, and the Bristows. “Wouldn’t Agent Bristow be a better choice?” 

Since he hadn’t specified which Agent Bristow, both gave him the Famous Bristow Death Stare. Dixon rolled his eyes. Marshall was trying to hide a smile and Vaughn’s eyebrows had disappeared into his forehead wrinkles, which wasn’t a big problem, seeing as Lauren had enough for both of them. 

Dixon started to gather up the files. “Seeing as we’ve covered everything, I think we’re done for the day. Agent Weiss, you’ll come by my office later for briefing on this. Everyone’s dismissed.”

The people began to file out, but Eric waited until the room was empty before falling back into his chair and wiping a hand over his face. He pretty much had no say in this; Sark was going to be living with him. In his apartment. Just the two of them. 

Shit. He was so fucked.

************************************************************

He didn’t know what was worse: Sydney practically rolling on the floor laughing her ass off or Vaughn’s atomic forehead reaching a new level of furrowedness. Then again, Vaughn wasn’t really talking to him, while Sydney had _lots_ to say. 

“I think the look on your face was the best part for me,” she grinned over a coffee break. He just scowled. “Seriously, your face went this really awful puce colour, and then your mouth did that twitchy thing it does when you’re nervous…yep, I won’t be forgetting that reaction for a _long_ time.”

“Yeah, yeah, ha ha, let’s all have a laugh at poor Eric’s expense,” he groused. “Can we please talk about something else? It’s not like this is going to go away if we stop discussing it. Whether we like it or not, I’m gonna be living with Sark.”

Sydney giggled, then rubbed his arm. “He’s been cooperating for so long, I doubt he’s going to do something and end up back in that cell. Besides, the CIA has everything under control, what with the multiple trackers and stuff they’re injecting into him right now. By the time we’re ready to go home, Sark’s basically going to be the equivalent of a neutered puppy. The worst he can do is snark you to death. I’m sure you’ll be able to handle him.”

Oh if she only knew, he thought. He wasn’t afraid of Sark hurting/killing him; well, not really. As they spoke, Sark was currently unconscious, getting 17 chips put into his skin so they could monitor him 24/7. They were also hooking some kind of watch device for Eric that linked to the trackers. Marshall had explained in typical Marshall style, which Eric did not understand, but the gist of it (Sydney later informed him) was that if Sark ever got a certain distance from Eric, the watch thingy would start bleeping and screeching and would send an emergency message to the Ops Center so they could hopefully catch Sark before he had a chance at real freedom. Eric had rolled his eyes at the extreme lengths the CIA was going through for this. If Sark really wanted to run, some little watch wasn’t gonna stop him. 

No, Eric wasn’t afraid that one night Sark would sneak into his room one night and smother him with a pillow. Eric was afraid that one night Sark would get up to use the bathroom and hear Eric screaming his name in total ecstasy. He’d never had a history of talking in his sleep, but the way his luck was running, a trip to the hardware store for some duct tape for his mouth might be in order. Couldn’t hurt to be cautious. 

“Eric? You okay?” Sydney touched him again on his arm. He smiled reassuredly at her, even though his insides were twisting all to hell. Damn it, how was he going to be able to keep the Sark fantasies under control if the guy was living with him? This was very not good. He considered going to Dixon and begging it off, but he didn’t want to seem like he was scared of living with an international assassin, and he wasn’t about to explain that having Sark around him might induce extreme sexual tension beyond anything the office had seen. Then again, they had survived the Sydney/Vaughn fiasco, but everyone had known about the forbidden lust then. 

He was so screwed. He spent the rest of the day doing pretend busy work, praying that an atomic bomb would go off somewhere in L.A. before 6 PM. Or maybe someone would kidnap Syd and he’d have to go hunting for her. Or some evil terrorist group could hold them all hostage for a few days. Anything to delay going home with Sark. Oh god he did not just think that. He walked to the bathroom and laid his head on the tiled wall, taking a few deep breaths. He could do this. He was a CIA agent. He’d faced much more delicate situations than this. Just be calm and cool and everything will be fine. 

He was so fucked.

**************************************************

“Well, this is it,” Eric opened the door and made a sweeping motion with his arm, but he was sweating bullets and so the motion came out jerky. He watched Sark’s eyes dart over the place and he swallowed hard. “Umm…I’m gonna go change; make yourself at home.” 

He practically ran to his bedroom, only breathing when he was safely behind the closed door. The ride home from the JTF building had been hell. He was so goddamned nervous that he was fidgeting with everything and tapping his fingers over the steering wheel, the console, his knee. He’d tried to break the tension by making small joking comments, but Sark had merely stared straight ahead silently. Eric really couldn’t blame him; the poor guy hadn’t seen natural light for almost three years. Not that it had hurt him any physically. There was something about that pale, almost translucent skin that made the man dangerously sexy. The CIA had given him a haircut whenever the mood struck them right (i.e. never), so the blond curls were long and extremely messy. He’d also only been eating whatever his captors had decided to feed him, so his facial features were sharper. The piercing blue eyes were all the more pronounced against the high cheekbones. Somehow Sark still managed to be sexy as hell without doing a damned thing for himself. How was that even fair?

Eric changed out of his suit and made to pick up his sweats, but thought better of it and grabbed his wrinkled jeans. He didn’t want whatever effect Sark could have on his traitorous body being out there for the world to see. At least if he suddenly got hard, the jeans would hide it, and the confinement might actually bring him down from the brink of arousal. He pulled on a sweatshirt as well, opened his door and plowed into Sark. “Jesus! What the hell, man?” He told himself that his suddenly rapid pulse was from the shock instead of the nearness of Sark. 

Sark just stepped back and regarded Eric. “That is your bedroom? That’s the only bedroom in this place.”

Eric rolled his eyes. “Yeah. So?”

Sark glared at him. “Where am I supposed to sleep? I don’t presume the CIA pays you enough to share a bed.”

Eric bit the inside of his cheeks and tried not to dwell on the lovely image that sentence put in his mind. “You saw the living room?” Sark nodded. “You saw the couch?” Sark nodded again, slower this time. “Enjoy.” He walked over to the kitchen and opened the fridge, trying to decide what to make for supper. 

“You’re not serious, are you?” Sark’s silky voice brought Eric back up. The other man was staring at the couch with a disdainful look. “I’m not sleeping on a couch.”

“You could always go back to that board in your old cell,” Eric replied, turning back to the fridge. He heard Sark heave a sigh behind him and could still feel those eyes glowering into his back, but he ignored it. He pulled out a beer and twisted off the cap, taking a long drink. He gestured the bottle toward Sark. “Want one?”

Sark eyed the bottle with the same look he gave the couch. “Do you have any wine?”

“Do I look like I would drink wine?”

Sark scowled. “I’ll be content with water then.” He brushed past Eric to grab a glass and Eric was thankful that the sweatshirt hid the goosebumps on his arms. He picked up the phone and dialed his favourite pizza place. 

While it was ringing, he turned to Sark. “What’s your poison?” When Sark shot him an incredulous look, Eric sighed. “What kind of pizza toppings do you want?”

Sark scoffed. “Takeout pizza? Cheap American beer? Sleeping on the couch? This is what I have to look forward to? The CIA suddenly looks good compared to this.”

“Hey, in case you were wondering, I didn’t ask to be the official babysitter for the US government. I’m not loving the idea either, but at least I’m making an effort here. It’d be nice if you could do the same,” Eric snapped. He turned his back on the other man, ordered his pizza, then sat on the couch and flipped on the TV. He tried to ignore the impatient little sounds Sark was making behind him until they got beyond annoying. “Will you shut up and sit down?”

Sark came around and sat next to him on the couch. “Do you have anything to read?”

“What do I look like, a librarian?” Sark just stared at him, unblinking. Eric sighed. “I’m not a really big reader. Sydney’s got a large collection though. We could go check out what she has.” He stood. “Anything to get you off my back,” he muttered.

Sark slowly followed as they left the apartment and walked down to Sydney’s place. “Look, I apologize for being so distant before. It’s going to take me a little while to adjust to pseudo-freedom.” He gave Eric a crooked smile. “Perhaps we should start over. Friends?” He stuck out his hand. Eric tentatively grasped it and tried like hell to ignore the shiver he felt the moment he touched the soft skin. Their eyes met and suddenly the air was electrified with something. They stood there for countless minutes; hands still clasped, eyes locked together. Eric could feel his breath start to quicken. Somehow without moving Sark was standing closer to him…he could feel his knees getting weak…he could smell the faint soapy scent of the other man’s skin…

Sydney’s door swung open and Eric nearly fell over himself backing away from Sark. “Hey, Syd, uhh…we were just wondering if you might have something for Sark to read. You know, like a book or something, because I know you like to read, and you had that whole English degree and all, so…yeah,” he trailed off, his cheeks flaming red. Good god, close proximity to Sark was turning him into Marshall. 

Sydney gave him a strange look. “Yeah. Come on in.” The two of them went inside and Eric fell back against the wall, taking in deep breaths. This was not good. Not good at all. 

_The rest of the night wasn’t so bad,_ Eric mused later, lying in bed. _No, not bad at all. You know, after that near kiss with Sark, then brushing his hand about a million times while eating supper, then sitting so close while we watched TV that I could almost feel the guy’s pulse…no, that wasn’t bad at all._ He groaned quietly and hid his face in his pillow. And this was only the first night. He was desperately trying not to imagine Sark stretched out on his couch only wearing a pair of boxers, approximately 30 feet from where Eric was trying to sleep. He was so dead. _So_ dead. 

Yeah, he wasn’t going to sleep much anymore. 

*********************************************************

Eric sighed into the shower, absently rubbing the shampoo out of his hair. At about 3 AM, delirious from no sleep, he had mentally slapped himself upside the head. Having Sark live with him was not going to go away any time soon. Yeah, okay, so he had been having sex dreams about Sark. Big deal. He’d had a few kinky fantasies about Sydney and he was still able to joke around with her. If he kept acting like a total spaz whenever Sark came near him, the other man would begin to suspect something was up, and Eric didn’t need that. He just had to keep reminding himself that the Sark in his dreams and the Sark in the living room were not one and the same. He’d lived with other guys before, during his college years. He could get through this fine. 

Of course, he’d never had to live with his college buddies after having dreamt about one of them sucking water of his naked body, like he had last night. He shivered, wiped off the rest of the soap, turned off the water and threw back his shower curtain. The sight before him made him scream and he nearly slipped and fell back on his ass. 

“I’m sure your neighbours appreciate the morning wakeup call, but I know I can do without the primal call of Agent Weiss,” Sark was standing at the sink, glaring at Eric in the mirror. He went back to shaving, passing the razor carefully over his neck. And if seeing him hadn’t already unnerved Eric, the younger man was doing it completely naked. 

Sweet Jesus.

“What in God’s name are you doing in here, trying to give me a heart attack? I would have rather you’d slit my throat while I slept.” As he spoke, Eric turned away slightly, grabbed a towel to cover himself and tried not to look at Sark. Unfortunately, his Benedict Arnold cock was _very_ happy this morning, so he closed his eyes and tried to think of the unsexiest thing he could. A picture of Arvin Sloane in a leather thong popped up. Oh yeah, that would do. He took a breath and turned back to Sark. “Dude, do you not have any boundaries? I was showering!”

“I can see that, Agent Weiss,” Sark finished shaving and used a damp facecloth to wipe the rest of the lather off his face. He stroked a hand over his cheek and Eric couldn’t help but think how incredibly hot that motion was. _Sloane in thong…Sloane dancing in a thong…_

“But we both need to get ready for work and you only have one bathroom. How was I to know how long it takes you to run through your morning _toilette_? Besides,” he smirked, “we’re both men. It isn’t like I was getting a glimpse of something I’ve never seen before.” He winked in the mirror and Eric nearly melted on spot. _SLOANE! THONG! FOCUS!_

He swallowed and frowned, stepping out of the tub. “Yeah, well, next time give me a little warning, and if it’s not too much, maybe you could be dressed too. How the hell did you get in here anyway? I locked the door.” He caught Sark’s eye and shook his head. “Never mind; spy amnesia. It happens sometimes.”

He was trying to ignore Sark, but the bathroom was pretty small and so their bodies brushed when Sark moved passed him to step into the shower. Eric stopped breathing. _Kendall in a thong now…come on, come on…_ “I do hope you left enough hot water for me,” Sark fiddled with the knobs and let out a quiet yelp when the water came on. “Christ!”

“Sorry,” Eric couldn’t help but laugh. “Still not used to the whole sharing thing.” _Sloane and Kendall in thongs, doing the tango…_

“Well, you better start or next time I’ll climb in there with you.”

That did it. Eric stumbled off to his bedroom, not really caring that the image in his head was now of Sark and the leather thong.

****************************************************

The next month flew by extremely fast. After that one brief morning fiasco, Sark and Eric had managed to come to some kind of system that worked out pretty good. Eric had been named Sark’s handler (ironically), but since the CIA still didn’t trust sending Sark on any missions, they were grounded at their desks, doing the boring side of work while Sydney got to hop all over the place. At first Eric was envious, but he actually found it kind of nice not to be living out of his gym bag and hotel rooms for a while. It was almost like a mini-vacation, and here he had his own cabana boy to enjoy it with. Except not. 

So Eric got back into the routine of living again. He actually was a great cook, but since he never knew how long he’d be home at times, he stocked up on frozen dinners and canned foods. But with all the extra time he had, he went shopping one day and went nuts planning his meals out. Sark had trailed behind him, avoiding contact with almost everything he could. The man had raised his eyebrow when he noticed the contents of Eric’s cart, but all he did was smirk. Eric couldn’t wait to show him what this agent could do with the right ingredients. Not that he was trying to impress Sark. Really.

It took them a couple days, but the two men settled into a somewhat comfortable routine, consisting of them ignoring each other. Sark really wasn’t big on conversation and while Eric had gotten over his initial discomfort, he still couldn’t find anything to talk about. They spent a few nights traipsing over to Sydney’s for reading material for Sark until she got fed up and handed him her library card. Occasionally, she came over for supper when Eric was tired of the silence. Even though Sark was cooperating, Sydney still felt the need to hate the guy on principle, so she never bothered to try to make nice with Sark. She was being sent on a lot of missions lately, so most times it was just Eric and Sark ignoring each other.

The Sark sex dreams hadn’t stopped; in fact, they had taken on a whole new level. Since Eric no longer had to imagine what the other man looked like naked, his imagination could concentrate on other things. Like how Sark’s sweaty skin might feel sliding along his own. Or how blue those eyes could get when aroused. Or how those crooked lips would look wrapped around his cock. He woke up most mornings rock hard and praying that he hadn’t moaned his pleasure during the night. He couldn’t stop the dreams and by now he wasn’t sure he wanted to. It was the best sex he’d ever had and he wasn’t even getting any.

After three years of incarceration, Sark’s limited wardrobe consisted of a few ill-fitting outfits the CIA had given him. At first it hadn’t been a big deal, but after a few days, Eric felt sorry the guy had to live in sweats after Armani and silk. So one Saturday, he packed a suspicious Sark in his SUV and drove to the closest mall. He parked in front of Macy’s and got out. He was nearly at the door before he realized that Sark wasn’t following. “Dude, you better start walking before you get zapped or something. I’m not really sure what those chips’ll do to you, but I’m not in the mood to find out.”

Sark sauntered up. “Why are we here?” he asked. Eric pushed him through the doors and guided him toward men’s wear. 

“I’m getting tired of doing your laundry every second day. Go wild.”

Sark’s eyes nearly bugged out. “You cannot be serious.”

“That’s the same thing you said about sleeping on my couch. The answer hasn’t changed at all. Start shopping, unless you want me to pick out a wardrobe for you. And I should warn you, I only look this good because I shop with Syd and she picks out stuff for me.”

Sark folded his arms across his chest. “I am not shopping here. It’s so…pedestrian, it’s disgusting.”

“Hey, priss boy, this is all I can afford, okay? Welcome to the exciting world of CIA salaries. The minute you get your hands on some cash, I’ll drive you over to the Armani shop myself. Until then, get moving. If you don’t have something picked out in the next ten minutes, I’m taking you to Wal-Mart and you can fight with the white trash and the college students. Go.”

If looks could kill, Eric would be incinerated by now, but he just grinned at Sark. The blond made a small noise that sounded a lot like a growl then began to pick through the racks. Eric looked as well, but didn’t dare suggest anything, even though he found some stuff that would make Sark look like an absolute god. An hour passed before Sark finally found him again and dumped a load of clothing in his arms. He chuckled as he paid for everything, noticing that Sark had picked the most expensive stuff. Oh well, at least it would look good. Sark could make _anything_ sexy as hell.

Sark had turned to go back to the car, but Eric began to saunter toward the mall entrance of the store. “You’re going the wrong way,” Sark said, a tiny hint of desperation in his voice. 

Eric just rolled his eyes. “I’m hungry. Come on.” He heard a frustrated sigh from behind him and grinned. It was so much fun to play with Sark. Mentally that is. 

It was kind of funny, watching an international assassin who was used to the finer things in life walk down the aisle of a mall, busy with the usual Saturday afternoon crowd. Like he had at the grocery store, Sark was trying to avoid contact with anything, but the mass of people made it hard. When his shoulder was jostled for the tenth time, Eric was sure that if there were a gun handy, Sark would whip it out and start blasting away. “Relax,” he teased. “It’s just a mall. Thank your stars I didn’t bring Syd along. She’s a bit more exuberant about her shopping. I swear I’ve been in almost every store this place has now.” 

This earned him another scorching glare. They kept walking until they found the food court, packed full with hyper kids, screaming toddlers, yelling teenagers and all the other stereotypical Saturday mall rats. Sark looked like he was going to lose his breakfast all over the floor. Eric pulled out his wallet and handed Sark a twenty. The other man just looked at it. “What?”

Eric inclined his head. “Go. I’m getting tired of having to hold your hand for everything. It’s just twenty bucks, it’s not gonna get you anywhere. Besides, I’m not waiting in line twice.” When Sark opened his mouth, Eric cut him off. “If you say ‘you can’t be serious’ one more time, I’m stuffing a rag down your throat.”

To Eric’s surprise, Sark suddenly grinned. Eric’s heart thudded at the sight, the light expression making the other man look very boyish and innocent. He turned before he could blush and headed off to the Philly cheese steak place. He needed a good shot of grease right now. When he got his food, he scanned the place quickly, but he couldn’t catch sight of Sark, so he weaved through the tables until he found an empty one. He just hoped that Sark would be able to find him. About thirty seconds later, the blond pushed his way through a group of giggling pre-teen girls and sat down. “That was something I never want to experience again,” he mumbled. 

Eric just took a huge bite of his sandwich. “What the hell is that?” he asked when he swallowed, pointing to Sark’s tray. 

“A gyro,” he answered, picking it up and taking a small bite. Eric cocked an eyebrow in confusion. “It’s Greek,” Sark explained further. Eric just shrugged and took another bite. “Well, it’s a hell of a lot better than what you’re shoving into your mouth,” Sark took a drink of his water. 

“All right, that’s it,” Eric finally snapped. “You know, I’ve had to put up with a lot of shit from my job in the past, but it’s nothing compared to listening to your whiny little ass these last few days. I’d rather get shot in the neck by Irina Derevko again than spend another moment with you either ignoring everything I say or griping about my efforts to try to make you feel more at home. I’m going to tell Dixon this isn’t working out. Hope you’re happy to go back to that cell again; I guess anything’s better than spending time with me.” He stood up, even though he had barely touched his food and picked up his tray. He almost turned away before Sark grabbed his arm. 

“Please sit down,” he said quietly. Eric complied, but stared malevolently at his companion. Sark crossed his hands on the table and shifted, looking down at them. “Look, I apologize again. This…just…I…I’m sort of used to doing things a certain way, of having everything how I want it. A small taste of freedom puts me back in that mode. I guess I have to adjust to living a certain way. And,” he looked up and gave a little smirk, “you’re really not that bad of a ‘roomie’, even if you use all the hot water in the morning.”

Eric was trying hard not to, but he couldn’t hold in his smile. “That’s real funny, man,” he said sarcastically, but from the spark in Sark’s eye, he knew he wasn’t that successful. He finally sat back and let an easy grin cross his face. “Apology accepted.” He picked up his sandwich and started to eat again, but paused when Sark didn’t move. “Okay, what’s wrong now?”

Sark looked him hard in the eye. “Why don’t you talk to me?” he asked, his voice still quiet and serious. 

Eric gave him a strange look. “Dude, I just yelled at you, what do you call that?”

Sark waved a hand dismissively. “Not this. Whenever Sydney comes over, you two never shut up. But the minute she leaves, you become silent. I hardly doubt you’re afraid of me, because when you do manage to say something, it tends to run along the lines of glaringly sarcastic. You’ve a reputation as a friendly man, but I have yet to see it. So why?”

Eric picked up his Coke and took a long drink. Sark’s unblinking stare was starting to unnerve him a bit. “What’s the big deal? You’re not the most talkative guy in the world. Our conversations mostly consist of you bitching about whatever manages to bite your ass at them moment. What are we supposed to talk about, sports? Girls? The political ramifications of the situation in the Middle East? Sark, I don’t see you as the kind of guy who makes meaningless small talk with people like me.”

“How do you even know that?” Sark glared at him again. “You don’t bother to talk to me about those things, so how are you able to judge what sort of a person I am?”

“Look, if you’re so pissed about being ignored all the time, why don’t you ever start any conversations with me?” Sark just glowered at him and Eric grinned. “See? It’s not that easy, is it? Face it, we’ve got nothing in common.”

Sark pulled at his lip and Eric nearly choked. “We work together. That’s something in common.”

Eric snorted. “No offense Sark, but after ten hours doing CIA paperwork, I’ll be damned if I’m gonna come home and spend another couple hours talking about it. Try again.”

“I do have a name, you know. You could try referring to me by that.” Eric looked at him quizzically. “Julian,” Sark said helpfully.

“I know. It’s just…”

“What?”

“It doesn’t quite fit…your image, you know? Julian’s kind of a…”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

“No, say it.”

“It’s a dumb name, dude.”

“Well, I’m glad someone agrees.” And to Eric’s surprise, Sark gave him another of those boyish grins. Eric shot him one in return. “You mentioned sports?”

“Big hockey fan.” He saw Sark’s lip start to curl back. “Yeah, kinda figured you wouldn’t be into that. And we’ve covered the issue of different tastes in food.”

Sark finished off his lunch. “Actually, that’s only in the realm of this slop,” he waved his hand around the food court. “I do enjoy the meals that you prepare. You’re quite a good cook.”

“Thanks,” Eric smiled. “What about you? Are you a master chef as well as a master spy?”

Sark laughed. “I wouldn’t say ‘master,’ but I can manage for myself. Finding the time, though…” Eric nodded in agreement. “What was your other topic? Girls? I’m sure we could find some common ground there.”

“Oh you do?”

Sark smirked. 

“In case you haven’t noticed, _Julian_ , I don’t really have much time for girls, what with the fin-filled life I lead. And now that I’ve got you permanently attached to my hip, my love life’s gonna take a sound beating.”

“What about Sydney?” Sark asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“What about her?” Sark just smirked more. “Oh, please don’t tell me you’re a member of the ‘Sydney Bristow Forbidden Lust Club’ too. Is no man safe?”

“I may not pay my dues regularly, but you can’t deny that she’s an intriguing and sexy woman.” Sark’s face turned serious. “You have quite a close relationship with her as a friend, but I’ve seen the way you look at her. Admit it, don’t you wish that there were something more there? That she would look at you the way she looks at that idiot Michael Vaughn?”

“Watch it, boy, that ‘idiot’ is one of my best friends,” Eric warned. Sark just rolled his eyes. “Well, okay, ‘idiot’ can be pretty accurate sometimes. But that’s not the point.”

“No, the point is you’re avoiding the issue,” Sark drained the last of his water.

Eric sighed. “What I feel about Sydney or not is irrelevant. She’s never going to see me as someone besides Eric Weiss, the platonic best friend. Do I wish she could? Hell yeah. I’d die for a chance with Syd, but it’s never gonna happen in my lifetime, so I don’t bother feeling sorry for myself about it.” He tossed his empty soda cup in a nearby trashcan. “How ‘bout you?”

Sark looked down, watching his fingers methodically align his tray on the table. “I’m in the same situation as you, except I don’t have the luxury of a close friendship like you do. Regardless of how much I do for the CIA, or how much time I spend in their custody, she’s still going to see me as the man who tortured one of her best friends and had a part in killing the other, not to mention bargaining with her for Agent Vaughn’s life. I can’t do enough to atone for all my sins, and in her eyes I’ll never be more than a dog looking for a new master.” He looked up at Eric and gave him a wry smile. “You know, the other night I lay awake and figured I had the better end of the deal. At least she hates me and doesn’t try to mask that. You, on the other hand, have to contend with her talking to you, smiling at you, touching you and hugging you and you know deep in your heart that you can never have her. I don’t think I could be able to stand it. But then I see you with her and then I have to rethink my whole theory.”

They sat in silence for a while, contemplating each other’s words. Finally Eric gave a little laugh. “Guess we do have something in common after all,” he said, standing. Sark gave him a small smile. “Well, I think you’ve suffered enough of the mall experience for a while. Wanna jet?”

Sark stood as well. “Yes.” Then he stopped. “No.” Eric gave him a strange look. “Wait,” and then he was walking away. Eric panicked for all of three seconds before following. When he finally caught up, Sark was leaning on the counter of the Cinnabon place, flirting with the teenage girl at the till. Eric watched dumbfounded as the giggling girl handed him a box of a dozen buns and a Styrofoam container. Sark gave her one last smile and a small wink, then sauntered back to Eric. “All right, I’m ready,” he said, and handed Eric the box, taking the container for himself. 

As they walked back to Macy’s, Sark practically attacked his cinnamon bun. “You are the strangest person ever,” Eric said, watching the other man out of the corner of his eye.

Sark took another bite, licking his lips to catch some errant icing. “Why? Because I like cinnamon buns? Am I not allowed to like them?”

“Well, not something as ‘pedestrian’ as cinnamon buns.”

Sark looked slightly offended. “Don’t you dare call these pedestrian. They’re the best pastries I’ve found anywhere. They’re the only thing that sustained me through those days of working at SD-6 and living here. Well, these and…” he gave Eric a sidelong glance. 

Eric shook his head. “Yup. Very strange.” Sark finished off his cinnamon bun, his fingers sticky with icing. “You need a Kleenex?”

Sark smirked. “That would be a tremendous waste.” He proceeded to lick his fingers clean and Eric didn’t even bother fighting with the warm feeling in his chest at the sight.

**************************************************

Eric kicked off his jeans and slid into bed, falling onto his back in exhaustion. The last week had been absolutely nuts for them. A couple of agents had been severely injured on a mission the week before and so Eric had been pulled from desk duty back into the field. Since no one was willing to deactivate the proximity chips under Sark’s skin, he was also sent along. He was bound up like Hannibal Lector in the process, just to ensure that he wouldn’t try anything. Instead of feeling sorry for him, Eric just stared, bondage fantasies going wild in his head. 

After lunch at the mall, Eric had tried a lot harder to make nice with Sark. Besides the brutally honest confession he had had about Sydney, the blond really wasn’t big on long heart-to-heart talks. At first it was a little hard to get around it, but after a while Eric embrace the superficial conversations they had. They still couldn’t find much in common with each other, but at least now they were trying. 

The dreams had not decreased at all, but Eric was fairly sure that he wasn’t talking in his sleep, so he didn’t try to do anything about it. He started to worry, though, about his mounting attraction for the real Sark. The only reason he had accepted the dreams was because Dream Sark was a very different person from Real Sark. But now that he had gotten to know the real Sark a lot better, he wanted to see if his dreams could become reality. He had never been attracted to a man before, and since his track record with women wasn’t that good, he had no idea what the hell to do. He didn’t want this to happen, but there was really nothing he could do about it. Well, nothing that didn’t involve a scene out of a cheesy porn flick.

He didn’t realize that he had drifted off, but when he opened his eyes, he was stretched out on a huge silk bed. And of course, he was naked. The light was low and there was a sensual tune playing somewhere. Before he had time to sit up and get a better look around, strong hands were caressing his chest and soft lips kissing his shoulder blade. He turned his head and his eyes met with smoky blue ones. “I was wondering when you’d wake up,” Sark murmured. 

Eric blinked. This was the first time there had ever been talking in one of his dreams. “Well, you know, a little beauty sleep never hurts. And in my case, it really helps.” 

Sark propped himself up and looked down at Eric, tracing his face gently. “Funny,” he chuckled before lowering his head and pressing his lips to Eric’s. Eric opened his mouth and slipped his tongue across the crooked line before Sark reciprocated, sliding his tongue into Eric’s mouth. Eric ran his fingers through the soft hair and ground his body into the other man’s. 

Sark pulled back, breathing hard. His eyes radiated pure desire. “Do you want this?” he asked. His hand brushed down Eric’s body and gripped his cock. Eric groaned and thrust his hips up. Sark smiled. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’” He lowered his head again and kissed Eric hard while his hand stroked up and down the throbbing erection. Eric could feel fire coiling in his groin, the feel of silk, hot lips and Sark’s hand driving him insane. He thrust harder, groaning with passion and…

He was jolted out of his dream with a start. He was back in his own bedroom, alone in his bed. He blinked at the ceiling a couple times and took a deep breath. That was the most realistic dream he had, and the evidence was roused hard in his boxers. He gingerly shifted his hips a bit and threw out his arm across the mattress. Only instead of hitting the cotton sheets, his arms smacked into something hard that shifted. It gave a yelp and Eric scrambled out of the bed, his hands searching for his gun. 

In the dim light he saw the lump in his bed move. He found his gun and clicked off the safety, then aimed it at the lump. “Don’t shoot,” a familiar muffled voice said. The blankets fell back and as Eric’s eyes adjusted to the black, he caught a glimpse of curly hair standing straight up. 

“Sark! Jesus Christ you idiot, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Eric was slightly relieved that he didn’t have some random robber in his bed, but then he realized that Sark must have been in bed with him while he had that last dream. Well, fuck. He lowered his gun and put it back in his dresser. “You scared me near to death, man. What the fuck are you doing in my bed, though?”

Sark sat up. Eric’s eyes almost bugged out of his head as he took in the sight of Sark’s messy hair and bare chest. “Don’t be mad,” Sark said softly. “My back has been killing me from that straightjacket I had to wear all week long and the couch from hell wasn’t helping me any. I just needed one night on an actual bed. I didn’t mean to scare you; I thought you’d be asleep by now.”

“I was,” Eric grumbled, sitting back down and swinging his legs back up. “I just…never mind me. Get back on the couch! Christ!”

“Come on Eric,” Sark said. “You’ve got a big enough bed to share. I just need a comfortable place to sleep tonight.” He cocked his head. “Please?”

The look in his eyes melted his resolve. Damn Sark and his kicked puppy look. Eric sighed and lay back down. “Just stay on your side, okay?”

“What’s the matter, Agent Weiss,” he could hear some smugness in Sark’s voice. “Are you that homophobic? Afraid that I’m going take advantage of you?”

“I’d like to see you try,” Eric muttered, then blushed. “Actually, I-uh-don’t share sleeping space well with people. I have a tendency to…use the other person as a punching bag.”

Sark flipped over onto his side and faced him. “Really?” he asked, amusement in his voice. 

“Yeah, well,” Eric shifted around, trying like hell not to look at Sark. “I don’t know why, but I’ve been doing it forever. The worst time was this girl I dated in college. I warned her and everything, but I guess she really didn’t take me seriously. Until I launched her across the room.”

Sark laughed, throwing his head back and exposing his neck. Eric fought himself not to lean over and taste it. “You’re serious? You actually did that? What happened?”

Eric smiled a bit. “She started freaking out and she woke me up. Of course, I was confused as hell because I had no idea what had happened. By the time she actually left, she had woken up the rest of my roommates. They thought it was the funniest thing ever. They still bring it up every time I get together with them.” He chuckled in spite of himself. “Not one of my finer moments.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Sark said teasingly. “There’s something to be said for a little rough play in bed. But I’ll remember to keep my distance, unless I’m feeling the need for some ‘punishment.’”

“If you don’t shut up in two seconds, I’ll launch you back to that couch. Sleep.” He heard Sark give a little snigger as he lay back down. Eric turned his back to the other man, and scooted over to the edge of the bed. He was beyond tired, but with Sark sleeping less than three feet away, he wasn’t going to risk slipping back into his dream world. He gripped the comforter tighter in his fists and gave a silent sigh. _Just for tonight…_ he thought.

***********************************************************

Unfortunately that night turned into two nights, then three more, then two weeks. At first, Eric was just too tired to boot Sark out of the bed and even though he still had his dreams, apparently he wasn’t talking in his sleep or doing anything to make Sark suspicious. The CIA had still been sending them on missions, with Sark trussed up like a holiday turkey, so Eric kept feeling sorry for the guy. The minute that they were sent back to desk duty, though, Sark could kiss comfort goodbye. 

As luck would have it, the day they were sent back to desk duty, Marshall brought his son in to show him off. The toddler had charmed the staff with his smiles, even though he was covered with chicken pox. Of course, no one had really cared because every one had had the pox as kids themselves. They just sympathized with Marshall and Carrie, and thanked their stars that it wasn’t happening to them. 

A few weeks later, Sark refused supper a couple nights in a row and went straight to sleep. Eric woke up late one night to the sound of someone groaning in pain. He found Sark curled up on the kitchen floor, burning up a fever. The doctor in the ER confirmed it; Sark had chicken pox and would probably be laid up for a couple weeks. Eric couldn’t refuse the guy a comfortable sleep and gave up the bed. Two nights on his own couch and he knew why Sark was bitching so much. Besides, he needed to sleep near Sark, just in case the man needed anything during the night. Yeah, that was it.

The nausea passed after three days, but the fever lingered and small red bumps appeared all over Sark’s pale skin. Eric practically had to tie him down to stop him from scratching himself bloody. Sick leave for Sark though meant sick leave for Eric, so they spent the days talking, whenever Sark wasn’t sleeping. Somehow sharing a bed had the magical touch of opening Sark up. Or maybe it was the fever, but still. They joked around like college boys, and Eric noticed that Sark was much more relaxed, almost laid back. If it weren’t such a fucked up premise, Eric would be calling Sark a friend. 

Of course, the changing relationship with Sark did squat for getting rid of the dreams, or that funny feeling Eric felt whenever Sark smiled or laughed. He was pretty sure he wasn’t gay, but there was something about Sark that made Eric feel differently than he had about anyone else. It wasn’t just that Sark was physically attractive; he was. Hell, no one could deny that Sark had been blessed with good looks and the sexual energy to use them to his advantage. But there was something else too, something Eric wasn’t sure he wanted to know more about. If this started to get any worse, the CIA was going to have to find Sark a new home because Eric didn’t want to have to live with these feelings anymore and not do anything about them. 

He was heating up some canned chicken soup one night when Sydney came by, throwing herself onto the couch in a huff. “You would not believe the day I had,” she snarled. “Beer me. No wait, we need something stronger. Get out the tequila.”

Eric came over and sat on the arm of the couch. “Oh uh, did baby Bristow have a bad day?” he teased and was rewarded with a kick to his thigh. “Ow! Be nice, Syd, or I’ll send you back home sober.”

“You do that and I’ll kick your ass so hard,” she snapped. He got up and picked out a couple beers, handing one over to her. She sat up and he sat down next to her, slinging an arm around her shoulder. She took a long drink before speaking again. “I cannot _believe_ that woman! Not only does she accuse me of having an affair with her husband, whom I haven’t spoke to in _three whole months_ , but she has the audacity to question my being sent on missions without another female operative! She says that it’s for my own safety, in case someone tries to take advantage of me, which is the stupidest reason I’ve ever heard of in the first place. I think she’s just doing it because she doesn’t trust me with her stupid husband, who didn’t even stick up for me at all! She is such a bitch!” She finished off the rest of her beer and thumped the bottle down on the coffee table.

Before Eric could reply to her rant, the microwave beeped and he got up to grab the soup. Sydney looked at him questioningly. “You’re eating canned soup for supper?” she asked. 

Eric rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. This is for the patient. Which reminds me, if I don’t get it to him right away, he’ll start whining about dying of hunger. God, he’s killed how many people and he can’t handle some itchiness and a fever?” He tossed her another beer and carried the bowl and some ice water to the bedroom. 

He found Sark sitting up, scratching his chest violently. “Hey, hey, you’re just making it worse, you know?”

Sark glared at him. “Easy for you to say. You’re not covered with these damned things that feel like I have little bugs crawling under my skin.” He brought his hands away and scowled at the dry skin underneath his fingernails. “Go get me more lotion.”

“Go get it yourself,” Eric set the food down on the bedside table and sat down on the bed. “If you’re well enough to bitch, you’re well enough to get up and get some lotion.”

Sark flopped back on his back. “I’m hot,” he complained. “And tired. I want to die.”

“Oh, grow up. Shut up, eat your food and I’ll draw you a cold bath later, okay? God. This is worse than having a child.”

“Like you would know,” Sark grumbled, but he drank his ice water and picked up the bowl of soup, sniffing it. Eric fought the urge to tousle the already messy blond hair and went back to the living room, where Sydney was watching TV, flipping through channels. 

He sat down next to her again. “So, you were commenting on the bitch?”

Sydney turned to him. “What’s up with that?” she asked.

“What?”

She nodded her head toward the bedroom. “You, taking care of Sark. What, is he threatening to kill you if you don’t?”

Eric laughed. “Obviously, you haven’t heard him when he’s pissed off about something. I swear, he’s even worse than you and that’s saying something. Besides, he’s sick. He shouldn’t have to suffer.”

“Yes, he should suffer for all that he’s done, Eric. What, just because you guys are living together, you’re best buddies now?”

Eric shrugged and took a drink. “It makes life easier when we get along. What the hell’s wrong with it anyway? Are you jealous? Sydney Bristow, jealous of Julian Sark?”

“Fuck you,” she snapped. She kicked the coffee table and it fell over with a crash. She brought her arm back to throw her bottle at the wall, but Eric caught her wrist and yanked it back. She glared at him. “You’re a bastard, Eric.”

“Whoa whoa whoa, Bristow, calm down!” he held her arms as she struggled. “Whoa. Was joking! Geez kiddo, I didn’t know that your day was so bad, okay? I’m sorry, really sorry. But don’t freak out on me just ‘cause I’m doing my job, okay? Look, I’m trying to make the best of a really fucked situation here and you’re not helping.”

Eric let go of her and scratched the top of his head. “I know you hate Sark, and Vaughn, and his wife, but Syd, you gotta let go. Yeah, okay, you lost two years, but life’s changed a lot and you have to accept that and move on. I thought you’d already worked out getting over Vaughn. Well, start doing it with Sark. You don’t have to be his ‘best buddy ever’, but stop acting like the bitch of the world around him, ‘cause he’s not going away any time soon. It’s about time you learned that the world as we know it does not revolve around Sydney Bristow.”

Sydney stared at him for a long time, then launched herself on him, throwing her arms around his neck. “Oh Eric, I’m so sorry,” she murmured, and Eric was surprised to feel tears on his shoulder. “I’m just so bugged all the time, and now I never get to spend any time with you. You know, all the stuff we used to do before this, like going out to movies, or having long dinners together. I just need some quality Weiss time, and every time I come over, I have to share you with _him_.” She sniffed and sat back again. “It’s not fair,” she whined.

“Awww,” Eric grinned, pushing her hair back from her face. “I miss you too, Bristow. But there’s nothing I can do about it. Suddenly we’re a package. The good and the bad, the pretty and the ugly. And I may be the good, but I ain’t the pretty.”

“Don’t say that,” Sydney smacked his chest. Then her face lit up. “Hey! I’ve got an idea! We _could_ go out this weekend, just you and me.”

“And how do you propose we get rid of Sark? I doubt Dixon’ll let you kill him.”

“No! Sark can stay with someone else. He doesn’t have to be with _you_ all the time, just this little thing.” She pointed to the watch on his wrist. “So when you get back, you go to Dixon and tell him that you need a night or two away from Sark. Just a breather or something. Then he can find someone else to do the Sark watching and you and I can go out.” She smiled brilliantly. “Isn’t that a great idea?”

Her joy was contagious. “Actually, that does sound…great,” he said. A date with Sydney Bristow? He’d never turn that down in a million years. And a night away from Sark would be a good thing. “Wow, now I know why I keep you around.” She laughed and poked him. “But you better be prepared, Syd, because I’m gonna plan the best date you’ve ever had. But I think we’ll wait until you’re no longer PMS-ing. Because as much fun as Bitchy!Syd is…”

“Hey!” she swatted him again, then hugged him. “Oh, I’m sorry. I just need a break. And I bet you do too. Have you been suffering, sleeping on this couch?”

“Huh?” he looked at her, and then realized that she wouldn’t know. “Oh! Yeah, it’s a pain in the ass, that’s for sure.”

She slung her arm around his neck. “Now I’m so excited for this! I don’t know how you do it, but you’ve managed to make my week, Eric Weiss! You’re the best.”

The rest of the night was a relaxing disruption from his current routine. He made stir-fry for he and Sydney, followed by ice cream and hot fudge, then watched bad sitcoms and made fun of them. By the time she went back to her place, Eric couldn’t remember the last time he had had so much fun. He cleaned up, then flicked off all the lights. He brushed his teeth, then walked into his bedroom to find a visibly livid Sark sitting in bed. “What happened to you?” he grumbled.

Eric undressed and got into bed. “Well, I see you’re feeling better.” Sark just glared at him. “Geez, what’s your problem? You’re worse than usual.”

Sark just scowled deeper. “Yes, it was a lot of fun for me to sit here and listen to you two joke around. Next time it would be nice to be included.”

“You’ve got legs, you could’ve come out there at any time.” Sark just lay back down and rolled toward the wall. “No, I had it wrong before: it’s not like having a kid, it’s like having a jealous wife.” When Sark didn’t move, Eric sighed. “Christ, what is with you guys tonight? At least with Syd I could blame it on the PMS.”

Sark still didn’t say anything. “Fine,” Eric mumbled. He rolled over and rubbed his temples. Stupid Sark.

That night was the first time he didn’t dream.

***********************************************************

“Oh god, Eric, that was hilarious! I’m sorry, but for a horror movie, that was _so_ cheesy!” Sydney clutched his arm as they walked back to the car. “Those zombies were just awful, and that chick? She screamed at everything! I mean come on!! That was such a laugh riot.”

Eric laughed along with her, sliding his arm around her shoulders. The night had been perfect. They started out with sushi for dinner, even though Eric didn’t like it very much. Sydney had giggled the entire time as he tried to use his chopsticks properly. He had also nearly lost it when he first tasted the wasabi, and she had sent rice flying across the table. Then they had walked around the mall for a while before the movie started. Eric told her about taking Sark to the mall and she had laughed at the idea. In fact, she was pretty giddy the entire night. He didn’t dwell on it; he just enjoyed her presence and tried to forget the fact that Sark was still ignoring him. 

After that weird night, they’d gone right back to that same awkward routine they had first had when Sark moved in. Except it was a lot worse this time around. Eric felt like he should be apologizing, but since he didn’t know what exactly he was apologizing for, he kept his mouth shut. Besides, it wasn’t his fault, whatever it was. 

He was completely confused. Sure, okay, he had blown off Sark. But so what? Why would it bother the other guy so much? Even to the point that Sark had gone back to sleeping on the couch. Eric felt a little shunned by the behaviour, but he had no idea what to do. This was reminding him a little of his last serious relationship and that bothered him. 

Sark hadn’t said anything against being dropped upon another agent for the night, so Eric had asked Dixon the day they came back. Right now Sark was enjoying the company of Derek Keller, a junior agent that worked with them. Keller didn’t seem to be intimidated by his new assignment for the night, which is probably why Dixon had chosen him. When Eric had dropped Sark off, the blond hadn’t even acknowledged him, which bugged Eric for some reason. They had been doing so well, and now Sark had just shut down for some stupid reason. Spending the night apart was supposed to be a good thing, but now Eric felt so guilty that he could barely concentrate. Even if he had Sydney all to himself. 

“Mmm, this was such a great night,” Sydney said, and leaned against him. “I don’t want it to end.”

“Aw, Syd, it’s getting late. Besides, we better go pick up our little assassin from Keller before one of them ends up dead.”

“You’re right,” she sighed. “But we have to do this again soon. I can’t believe what a stress reliever being with you is. I wish I had found out sooner.”

“Hey, that’s what I’m here for,” Eric joked. She hugged him and giggled when he held the door open for her. They chatted about the movie as they drove toward Keller’s place. 

Sydney stayed in the car while Eric ran upstairs to collect Sark. When he knocked on Keller’s door, the younger man answered almost immediately. “Thank god,” Keller breathed. “I honestly thought you weren’t coming back. And I wouldn’t blame you.”

Eric frowned. “Why, was looking after Sark that bad? What did he do?”

“It’s what he _didn’t_ do that freaked me out. The guy just sat there all night, staring out the window. I asked him what he wanted to eat, he didn’t answer. I turned on the TV, he just ignored it. I threw a tennis ball at his head and he just picked it up and tossed it back to me. What did you do, lobotomize him? Hey, oy, Sark! Your keeper’s here to put you back in the cage!”

“Hey, Keller, be nice,” Eric said, annoyed, but Keller just ignored him. Sark appeared, his face blank. Keller ripped off the watch and slapped it in Eric’s palm. “How much do I owe you?” Eric said sarcastically.

“Don’t try to make this a joke, Weiss. You owe me big for this.” Keller slammed the door. 

Eric turned to Sark. “What the hell did you do to him?” Sark just looked at him, a line appearing on his forehead. Eric sighed. “Never mind. I forgot you’ve taken the oath of silence.”

The ride back home was quiet. Sark was sulking in the back and Sydney seemed to sense that Eric didn’t feel much like talking anymore. When they got back to the building, they all stopped at Sydney’s door. She gave Sark a look, and he rolled his eyes before walking up the next flight to Eric’s place. She turned to Eric. “So…this was a great night.”

Eric felt his throat go dry, but he gave her a smile. “Yeah. Had a lot of fun with you, Bristow.”

“Me too,” she murmured. They stood there looking at each other for a long time before Sydney rose on her toes and gave him a small kiss on the lips. “Well, goodnight,” she said, and stepped inside her place, giving him a tiny wave before shutting the door. Eric stood there staring at her door before shaking himself out of his stupor and walking up to his own place.

He found Sark leaning against the wall, hands shoved in his pockets. “I’d ask you how your night went, but since you’re still pouting, I won’t bother.” He unlocked the door and let them in. Sark walked over to the couch and flopped down on it, turning away from Eric. Eric sighed, went to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. He stared at Sark’s head while he drank, then slammed his glass down on the counter. “You know something? I’m tired of this. You wanna sulk, fine. But at least give me a reason for why you’ve been acting like this lately. I mean, I’d apologize or something, but I have no idea what the hell I’d be sorry for. I thought we were getting to be good friends there, but obviously something stupid happened that’s making you act like a five year old. All I’m gonna say is get over it, whatever it is, and get back to the normal sarcastic Sark you used to be. Or at least tell _me_ what’s going on, so I don’t feel like a total jackass for doing something I don’t even know I did!”

Sark just lay there. “Forget it,” Eric muttered. He flicked off the lights and went back to his bedroom, cursing Sark in his head. He tossed his clothes in the general direction of his closet and threw himself into bed. His fun relaxing night was giving him a migraine and he just wanted to get to sleep as fast as he could. 

He didn’t remember nodding off but the next thing he knew he heard muffled cries coming from his apartment. He scrambled out of bed and grabbed for his own gun, but it wasn’t there. “Sark? Sark?” he called, but there was no answer, only an eerie silence. Without any thought about what could be happening in his apartment he opened his bedroom door and ran into the living room. 

The couch and rug were soaked in blood. Eric wanted to yell out, but no sound came to his lips. He could see the outline of a body lying on the floor by the couch. He frantically stumbled over and tripped over something. His heart caught in his throat when he saw what it was. Sydney lay there, her eyes wide open but unseeing. Her chest was covered in stab wounds. He shook her hysterically, but her body was limp in his arms. He felt a hand on his leg and he rolled over to find Sark laying there, clutching at his throat. He was gasping, reaching for Eric, but there was blood pouring out of the slash in his neck. Eric pulled him up against the couch, but couldn’t think of what to do. He was reaching out for something, anything to stop the flow of blood, but then he felt something cold press into his neck. He opened his mouth to scream as he felt the knife draw across his skin…

“Agent Weiss! Eric, wake up!”

He could feel someone shaking him, and he wrenched his eyes open, sitting up. Sark was kneeling on the bed next to him, his face white. Eric passed a hand over his forehead and brought it away covered in cold sweat. He was also breathing hard and shaking like crazy. “What? What is it?” he asked.

Sark cocked his head. “I heard you screaming from the living room. I thought something was wrong.” Eric blinked a couple times. “Was it a dream?” Sark asked gently.

“Yeah,” Eric breathed. He gave a brief laugh. “Wow, I haven’t had a nightmare like that since I was a kid. You know, the kind that seem so real you can feel everything as if it’s really happening?” He took a deep breath and brushed his hand over his hair. Sark just sat there and stared at him. The cold feeling in his chest that he had woken up with was fading away slowly, but he still felt a shiver in his gut. He laughed nervously, “Boy, that really shook me up.”

Sark sat back and propped his arms up on his knees. “Do you want to talk about it, or would you rather leave it in the past?”

Eric sat back against the wall. “So now that I have a bad dream you want to talk to me?” he joked. Sark looked slightly startled at that. “Forget I said that. It’s just been a crazy couple of weeks and that dream didn’t help at all. It was just so _freaky_ ; so vivid it was scary. I’ve never felt so terrified in my entire life and it was a goddamned dream.”

Sark just nodded and they fell silent for a while. Eric could feel his breathing slowing down to normal and his heart was no longer pounding. A sense of calm swept over him as the memories of the dream fade from his mind. Finally Sark shifted. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a bastard lately.”

Eric raised his eyebrows and looked at Sark. “Where did that come from?” he asked.

Sark shrugged. “I just thought I’d give you one less thing to worry about. You were right; I was making a big deal out of something that wasn’t your fault. I apologize.”

“You do that a lot,” Eric replied.

“I do it when it’s necessary. I don’t want any animosity between us, especially because we don’t know how long this partnership is going to last. So I’m trying to clear the air.” He smiled and stuck his hand out. Eric shook it and smiled back. 

They sat there again, just quietly looking at each other. Eric could feel something spark in the air. “Well,” Sark said quietly, but he didn’t move. Eric was aware that his heart was pounding loudly again, and he was suddenly very nervous. He didn’t know what was about to happen, but he wasn’t about to stop it. 

Very slowly, he sat up and shifted himself forward. He leaned over and pressed his lips to Sark’s very gently, little more than a brush. Sark didn’t move, wasn’t even breathing, so Eric moved closer and kissed him again, this time with a bit more pressure. He opened his mouth carefully and slid his tongue out to run over the other man’s lips. They were soft and thin under his, a little dry and rough. Eric brought his hands up and cupped Sark’s face, letting his fingers smooth over the soft skin under them. 

Suddenly Sark pulled back a bit. “Why did you do that?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Eric felt something pull tight in his stomach. He could feel his face flame as his insides seemed to disappear. He wanted to lie, turn away and say something about still being half asleep, but those blue eyes were regarding him unblinkingly and he couldn’t think of anything to say. “I…I just… _felt_ something, and I wanted to see what would happen if I did it. But I guess I was wrong, so…”

He saw Sark frown slightly and he cracked a smile, even though he felt like he was going to puke. “Naw, it’s okay, don’t feel bad. I’m used to rejection, you know? Don’t worry about it.” He went to lie back down, but Sark put his hands on Eric’s shoulders and stopped him. 

“Eric,” he started, then stopped. Eric could feel those eyes searching his face, almost burning his flesh. Swiftly Sark leaned forward and kissed Eric insistently. Eric fell back on the bed, wrapping his arm around Sark’s head and pulling him down with him. He ran his hands through Sark’s curls as they kissed. Eric parted his lips when he felt Sark’s tongue probe at them, and the sensation of the other man tasting the inside of his mouth was almost more than he could bear. He moaned passionately, and moved his body closer to Sark’s, wanting to feel more of the other man against him. 

Sark broke away from his mouth to kiss down his neck, while his hands roamed Eric’s chest and stomach. He shifted and slid one of his legs between Eric’s, his thigh brushing against Eric’s erection through his boxers. He could feel Sark smile against his neck and he used the hand buried in the curls to pull his face up for another heated kiss. Eric let his hands wander down Sark’s body as they kissed, enjoying the feel of taut muscles just below the surface of the smooth skin. His fingers brushed over Sark’s hips and slid underneath the waistband of Sark’s boxers. 

“Wait, wait,” Sark whispered, pulling back a bit. He brought his hands up to Eric’s face and looked him straight in the eye. “How far…how far is this going to go? Because there’s no halfway here, Eric. It’s either all or nothing.”

Eric took a deep breath before replying. “Guess it’s gonna have to be all then,” he said, and smiled. Sark grinned back and Eric felt his heart thud in his chest. He leaned forward again, but instead of capturing Sark’s lips, he started pressing small kisses to Sark’s neck and shoulders. He rolled onto his back and wrapped his arms around Sark’s waist to bring the other man to lie on top of him. Sark ground his hips into Eric’s, their cocks rubbing together through the layers of fabric from the boxers. Eric made a sound like a growl and yanked Sark’s boxers off in one quick motion. Sark chuckled, but the sound was cut off by Eric’s mouth again claiming Sark’s. He wrapped his hand around Sark’s swollen dick and hummed when Sark groaned and jerked his body. 

Sark took control again, removing Eric’s hand from him. Eric caught his breath as Sark kissed down his chest again, sucking it harshly. He had to admit, the blond’s mouth felt like heaven on his body. Sark ran his tongue over one of Eric’s nipples, then nipped it between his teeth. Eric groaned once, then again when Sark repeated the treatment on the other. 

He had never felt like this before, so turned on by mere touches and sounds. It was like Sark knew exactly where to press or stroke for the most pleasure. Eric’s mind was spinning out of control, and he knew he wasn’t going to last very long if Sark made it down to his cock. He had no idea what the hell he was doing, or what was going to happen later, but he pushed aside all thoughts when Sark slid his tongue into Eric’s bellybutton. Thinking could be done much later. For now, he was just going to enjoy.

Sark pushed away the covers and ran his hands up and down Eric’s thighs slowly. He leaned over and nudged the bulge in Eric’s boxers with his nose. Eric thrust up, gritting his teeth. Very carefully, Sark pulled the shorts down his legs and tossed them somewhere into the black. He placed his hand on Eric’s raging erection and stroked up and down gently. Eric gripped the bottom sheet in his hands, panting. Again, Sark leaned over and took the swollen head into his mouth, causing Eric to scream in agony. The warm wetness of Sark tortured his over-sensitive body. Sark sucked him languidly, swirling his tongue around his tip in an achingly slow manner. Before Eric could beg for leniency, Sark’s fingers wrapped around the base of his cock and he took Eric in deeper, pushing him back until Eric could feel the slippery warmth of the back of Sark’s throat. Sark’s head began to bob up and down in a leisurely manner and Eric closed his eyes and prayed for release. He’d only had a few blowjobs in his life and this was very much the best one he’d ever experienced. Sark’s other hand was rolling his balls back and forth, and the double sensation was driving Eric closer to the edge. 

He tucked his hands around Sark’s face again and lifted him away from his cock, bringing him back up his body for another kiss. Sark’s own hard cock was pressing into his hip and he wanted to give the other man release as well. He lifted Sark’s head off his own and looked deep into the sapphire eyes, hazy with desire. “I’ve never done this before,” Eric murmured, “But I want you. _Now_. Before I go insane.”

Sark looked down at him for a few seconds before comprehension came into his eyes. He kissed Eric gently before sitting up and crawling in between Eric’s legs. He bit his lip. “Do you have any…?” he asked hesitantly. Eric shook his head and cursed himself. Sark just smirked and spit into the palm of his hand. He stroked himself a few times, making sure the saliva was spread all over his cock. He took two fingers and sucked on them before bringing them down and pressing them along the seam of Eric’s ass. Eric hissed gently when Sark found his opening and carefully slid a finger inside of him. It hurt at first, but Sark was whispering, telling him to relax, so he did. Sark reached over and grabbed the other pillow and placed it underneath Eric’s hips, then nudged his legs wider apart. He worked his finger deeper inside, until it was all the way in and waited, watching to see Eric’s reaction. Eric moaned and rocked his hips up. Sark removed his finger and moved in closer, pressing the tip of his cock against Eric’s ass. He covered Eric again and kissed him sensually, hungrily, before pushing harder inside. 

Eric’s breathing was erratic, and he clenched hard to fight the initial invasion, but once the pain lessened, the erotic feeling of Sark’s cock inside of him was so good that he gave a groaning cry that begged for Sark to start moving. Sark began to thrust, very slowly at first, letting Eric get used to the feeling. Eric began to move his body along with Sark, holding the other man’s hair between his fingers gently as Sark laid light kisses along his neck. Sark’s abdomen was rubbing against Eric’s throbbing cock, bringing him closer and closer to the edge. Sark began to thrust faster and harder, his own breathing getting out of control with every push inside of Eric. They began to move in an irregular rhythm as the climax built for both of them. Eric was ready to come soon, but Sark reached a hand between them and squeezed him. “Just wait, okay,” he whispered and Eric nodded frantically. Sark worked himself in and out faster, panting now. Eric brought him up for another kiss, catching Sark’s lower lip with his teeth and chewing gently. Sark groaned and slid his tongue inside to stroke Eric’s mouth. 

Just when Eric thought he could take no more, Sark gave one last powerful thrust, stiffened his back and cried out. Eric felt something hot erupt deep inside and bit his lip not to scream. His impending orgasm was driving him up the wall, but he lay back and took pleasure in the feeling of Sark coming inside of him. Sark collapsed when he was done, laying his head on Eric’s chest panting for air. Eric rubbed a hand down his back then hissed when Sark shifted and brushed against his painful erection. When he had caught some of his breath, Sark carefully pulled out of Eric and moved down the bed, taking Eric into his mouth again. It only took a few seconds of Sark sucking on him before Eric shivered and came hard. He could feel Sark swallowing down his semen as he ejaculated, then fell back on the bed in an exhausted heap. Sark crawled up and lay down next to him. Eric pulled him over close. “Wow,” he finally said. 

Sark chuckled. “No, I really mean that. I mean, that was so much better than I’d ever dreamed…”

Sark brought his head up to look at him. “You’ve dreamt of this?” he asked, his voice teasing but surprised.

“Oh yeah,” Eric murmured. “But man, nothing compared to the real thing. That was exactly what I needed too.”

“Just a good thing I was here then, hmm?” Sark winked at him, and Eric pulled him down for another kiss. 

****************************************************

The transition from partners to lovers was a smooth one for Sark and Eric. The morning after, when Eric woke up with Sark in his arms, he had felt a small bout of nervousness and uncertainty. The feeling passed when Sark had rolled over and buried his head in Eric’s chest, nuzzling him softly in his sleep. 

Suddenly Eric couldn’t stop grinning whenever Sark was near. It was crazy, and possibly a little stupid, but he was head over heels, had fallen hard, and completely taken with Sark. No, it wasn’t _love_ , he kept telling himself, but it was something that gave him the same weird sensation deep in his stomach. And it wasn’t just the sex either; there was a new sense of intimacy in everything they did now: every time they spoke to each other, or ate supper, or even just sat on the couch watching TV. It was like now that the sexual tension had been broken, they were able to live in relative comfort with each other. 

Eric’s favourite pastime now became learning every inch of Sark’s body, just so he could give him the same type of pleasure Sark dolled out every night. Sark loved having his neck covered with kisses, and he was slightly ticklish behind the knees. But his real Achilles heel came out one cool Sunday morning. 

They had been lying around the bed, neither wanting to get up and face the day. Sark had been lounging on his stomach, his face pressed into the pillow, and as Eric was browsing over the sports section of the newspaper, he absently began to run his nails up and down Sark’s bare back slowly. To his surprise, Sark stretched his lithe body out long and taut and _purred_. Sark was absolutely greedy about getting his back scratched, to the point that he would threaten Eric with bodily harm if he did not comply. Eric certainly didn’t mind, because it was usually a prelude to something a lot more fun for the both of them. 

They kept their work relationship professional, if not a little friendlier with each other than they had usually been, but not so much to make people suspicious of anything. At home, though, they were completely comfortable being with one another. They didn’t even bother with any pretenses. If Eric wanted to watch TV with his arms wrapped around Sark’s waist, well nothing was going to stop him, damn it. His peaceful times were at night, watching Sark sleep. There was something about staring at that young face while it was still that gave him a gentle tug somewhere deep in his chest. Once he was done studying Sark, he would bury his face in Sark’s soft hair and fall asleep himself. It just felt so right to be holding him and Eric didn’t want to think about anything else. 

About two weeks after they had started sleeping together (biblically, not literally), Eric lay stretched out on his couch, catching up on the sports highlights. He had prepared dinner for the night, so Sark decided he would clean up and do the dishes. Eric was slowly dazing off when Sark came over and covered Eric’s body with his own. He pressed small kisses along Eric’s cheek as he snuggled down. Eric sighed with happiness. Sark raised his head and frowned down at the other man. He grabbed Eric’s hands and wrapped them around his own back, wriggling a little. Eric silently chuckled as he realized what Sark wanted from him, but he kept his hands still on Sark’s back, enjoying the blond’s frustration. Sark shook his shoulders a few more times before glaring down at Eric. “Do you want me to beg or something?” he growled. 

Eric laughed. “Aw, poor baby wants his back rubbed. What are you gonna do for me, huh?”

Sark started to tease his ear with his tongue. “I did the dishes and let you relax.”

“I cooked supper. Try again.”

Sark undid the first few buttons on Eric’s shirt, sucking lightly on the exposed skin. Eric groaned quietly. “How much more do I have to do?” Sark murmured. 

“I think that’s good enough,” Eric muttered and threaded his fingers in Sark’s hair, pulling his head up for a long kiss. As Sark slid his tongue through Eric’s lips, Eric began to run his fingers over Sark’s back. Sark made that sexy purring noise, the sound reverberating into Eric’s mouth and down his throat. Eric kissed him deeper, his tongue stroking Sark’s with more passion. Sark ground his hips down and Eric could feel himself getting very hard. He slipped one leg in between Sark’s and was contemplating how the hell they were going to get to the bedroom when a gasp stopped him cold. He pulled Sark away and rolled his head back to find the source of the sound. 

Sydney stood frozen in the doorway, her hand covering her mouth and her eyes wide in shock. Sark raised himself off of Eric and straightened out his clothes; Eric sat up and rebuttoned his shirt. He stood and walked over to Sydney. She backed up slowly as he came closer. “Don’t. Just…don’t.”

“Syd,” Eric said quietly. He placed his hands on her shoulders. “Let’s go somewhere and talk, okay? Let’s just-”

“No!” she screamed, wrenching herself from his grasp. She turned to leave, but Eric grabbed her again and yanked her back in. She fought with him, but he managed to pick her up and toss her over his shoulder. She pounded her fists against his back as he carried her into the bedroom and dropped her hard on the mattress. She bounced back up and tried to stand, but he pushed her down again. “Let me go!” she snarled. 

“Nope,” Eric said, narrowing his eyes. “Not until you listen. Now I’m gonna go back out there for a second and you’re gonna stay right here until I get back. And if you try an escape attempt, I’ll tie you down. So shush.” He left the room, closing the door behind him. Back in the living room, he found Sark flipping through the channels irritatedly. He sat down next to Sark and joked, “You know, I was watching that program.”

Sark’s jaw clenched the tiniest bit. “Why aren’t you back there, making up lies for Sydney?”

“Well, you see,” Eric sat back and stretched his arm out, laying it over the back of the couch and barely against Sark’s shoulders. He felt Sark tense, but he didn’t move away. “After spending many, many nights with angry Syd, I’ve learned that she goes through stages. Stage one, which is right now, is fuming silently. Next comes gratuitous cursing and stage three is breaking something. After that, she tends to calm down a bit and she’s actually rational enough to talk to. So we just have to wait for a loud crashing noise.” 

He let his arm drop around Sark’s waist and pulled him close. His other hand came around and grasped Sark’s gently in his. Sark still wouldn’t look at him. “Look, Julian,” and Sark gave a start at the use of his real name. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop it. Syd’s my friend and she always will be, but this,” he squeezed the hand he was holding, “this is something different. _Good_ different. And she’s not going to understand, or accept it right away, but that doesn’t mean I want it to stop or go away. Just…just remember that, okay?”

Sark still kept staring straight ahead, but Eric could see a small smile playing at his lips. Just then there was a loud thud coming from the bedroom, followed by a stream of loud expletives. “Well, guess that’s my cue,” Eric said, and pushed himself off the couch. He made to walk back there but Sark’s hand, still wrapped in his, held him back and pulled him down again. He cupped Eric’s face and kissed him slowly, brushing his teeth against Eric’s lips. When they pulled away, Eric felt a little dazed. “What was that for?” he breathed.

“Just something for _you_ to remember,” Sark murmured, his eyes smoky with desire. Eric poked him in the side and stood again, walking back into the bedroom. Sydney was sitting on the bed, poised to strike. Eric sighed at the sight of his mirror smashed into small pieces on the carpet, then closed the door and leaned against it, crossing his arms.

They stared at each other for a few seconds before Eric decided to speak. “So,” he started, “that was probably an interesting sight for you.”

“Interesting my ass,” she snapped. “You…I can’t believe you would even…do you know…what the hell is wrong with you?”

Eric cocked his head to the side. “Just one question before we get started, okay? Are you angry because I was kissing another man, or because that other man was Sark?”

“Damn it, Eric, this is not a joke! How long has this been going on? How long have you been fucking Sark?” Eric just looked at her. “Answer me! Were you…oh god, were you fucking him when we went out on our date? What, was it some kind of ‘lovers spat’ you were having then? Because the last time I checked, you and Sark were not friends. How the hell did you go from that to being his little fuck buddy?”

Eric gritted his teeth. “First of all, we’re not ‘fucking,’ as you so delicately put it. Well, I guess we are if you want to get technical. But that’s not the point. Jesus, Syd, don’t you think I thought about all of this before starting something? I don’t understand why you’re getting so worked up over all of this.” He squinted at her, staring hard at her furious features. “Are you jealous? No, honestly this time, Sydney. Are you jealous that I’m with him and not you?”

“Is that so wrong?” she seethed. “I thought, especially after that date we had, that there was something between us. And I thought you felt it to, but I guess you just needed a good roll in the sack instead of something real.”

Eric strode over and shook her by the shoulders. “Hey! Don’t you ever say that again, okay? This isn’t mindless. I feel something for him, and I know that I shouldn’t, but I do and there’s nothing I can do about it. Yeah, I still love you a lot, okay? Nothing’s gonna ever replace you, but this has nothing to do with you. This is between Sark and me. And if you can’t deal, well, I don’t know what we’re gonna do about it.”

Sydney went completely still, her back stiff as a rod. She stared at Eric for a long time before pushing herself off the bed. “Well, you may not know what to do, but I sure do.” Eric tried to stop her before she got to the door, but she pulled her gun out of the back of her pants and pointed it at him. “Stay. Right. There,” she said and he sat on the bed, raising his hands up in surrender. She pulled the door open and stormed out of his room. Eric jumped up and opened his dresser drawer to grab his own weapon, but before he could, Sydney returned, pushing Sark in front of her with the gun pressed to his back. Sark’s face was carefully blank as Sydney shoved him forward and closed the door again.

“So,” Eric said calmly. “What now?”

“Now we do something about this,” Sydney stalked up to Sark and grabbed the front of his shirt. “Now I get to see exactly what it is he does for you.” To Eric’s surprise, she pulled Sark closer to her and kissed him harshly. Sark looked surprised for about two seconds before he began to respond, kissing her back with the same intensity. Sydney broke away and gave the men an evil grin, before shoving Sark onto the bed. She straddled him, leaning over and kissing him again while her fingers worked at getting his shirt off. 

Eric watched dumbfounded as she first stripped Sark, then herself, of clothes. When she was completely naked she sat back down over Sark, grinding her hips hard into his. Sark groaned and Eric could see that he was completely hard underneath her. She pulled him up for another angry kiss, then pushed him back down and got up, walking over to Eric. 

She immediately undid his pants, and yanked them down with his boxers, exposing his half-erect cock. She grabbed him tightly and he hissed at her roughness. “You,” she panted, rubbing her hand over him quickly to get him harder, “are going to watch him fuck me. Then maybe you’ll understand what to do about this.” She yanked him forward to the edge of the bed, then lay back down and pulled Sark over top of her. She let him kiss her again before pushing his head away and down. Sark understood, biting and sucking his way down her body. When his mouth was on her abdomen, she spread her legs wide and raised her hips to him. 

Eric’s breathing was becoming uneven as he watched Sark’s mouth cover Sydney’s lower lips. Sark’s head blocked his view, but by the way Sydney was writhing and moaning, Sark was doing something good down there. Her hands were squeezing her breasts as she bucked underneath him. Eric wrapped his hand around his throbbing cock and began to stroke himself while he watched. Even though it was completely fucked up, he couldn’t help but think about how erotic this entire premise was. He moved his hand faster when Sydney gave out a keening cry and arched her back. 

When she had caught her breath and her senses, Sydney lifted one foot and kicked Sark away from her. Sark fell back on the mattress, breathing hard, his mouth glistening with her arousal, his eyes glittering a near black. She sat up and dragged Sark’s body over to the edge of the bed, near Eric. “Now I get to watch,” she hissed, rolling over on her back and stretching out. She kicked Sark in the back. “And you better get him off too, or no one’s gonna help you with this.” Her foot slid between his legs and Sark jerked away from her, glaring at her. 

He rose up on his knees before Eric and pulled his head down for a kiss. As their tongues stroked each others, Sark removed Eric’s clothing fully, his hand brushing over the bulkier man’s muscles. When Eric was naked too, Sark drew him down to the bed, rolling Eric underneath him. Like he had with Sydney, he kissed his way down Eric’s body, but he was gentler, his mouth soothing instead of leaving harsh bites and marks. He wasted no time in taking Eric’s cock into his mouth, sucking slowly at first before another kick from Sydney prodded him on more. Eric drug a hand through Sark’s hair and moaned as he drew closer and closer to climax. 

Sydney crawled over and sat on Eric’s chest, blocking his view of Sark’s head bobbing up and down. She leaned over and brushed her lips against his. “Are you loving this?” she sneered. “Did you enjoy watching your lover go down on me? Do you like having his mouth wrapped around your cock? Does he get down on his knees and service you, like he should?” She threw her head back and laughed, a mad glint in her eyes. “You can’t lie to me now.”

Eric tried to answer, but he was panting for breath. Sark had worked one finger into his ass and now he was raising his hips in rhythm to Sark’s mouth. Sydney’s fingers closed around Eric’s tight nipples and she dug in with her fingernails. The extra pain made him hit his peak and he came with a shout. He felt Sark swallow around him and he groaned one last time before literally collapsing deep into the mattress. Sydney lifted herself off of him and sat against the pillows, her legs spread wantonly. Sark lay back between Eric’s legs, catching his breath and Eric wanted to pull him up and hold him next to him. 

But Sydney wasn’t done. She shoved Eric out of the way and crawled over to Sark. She straddled him and pressed her hands flatly on his chest. “You think you deserve a little release now?” she asked. Sark just looked up at her breathing heavily, but Eric could see from the look in the blue eyes that Sark was getting tired of this game. Sydney rose up and sank down on his cock in a swift motion. She immediately built up a frenzied pace, trying to keep control, but she was over-stimulated and her anger was making her exhausted. 

With one violent movement, Sark thrust up hard and threw her off. Before she could do anything, he slammed his body on top of hers and entered her again. She screamed and closed her eyes, tears appearing along the slit of her lids. “It’s my turn to control the game, Agent Bristow,” Sark snarled, pounding into her brutally. She was crying in pain and moaning in pleasure and she finally found another release, her eyes flying open in shock. Sark kept up his aggressive rhythm until he groaned and arched his back. He fell hard on top of Sydney, but she pushed him away and curled up at the end of the bed, her shoulders shaking. 

Eric shifted over to Sark first, brushing damp curls off the man’s forehead. He silently asked Sark if he was okay and Sark nodded, his breath still short in his lungs. Eric gave him a small kiss before crawling over to Sydney and rubbing her shoulders. She wrenched herself away from him, but he lifted her effortlessly into his arms and lay back, resting her head on his chest. He could feel hot tears dropping onto his skin. “Shhh,” he whispered. 

“I can’t…that…that wasn’t me. I didn’t mean it, I swear,” she cried, her voice still angry, but worn and tired. Eric stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. 

“I know,” he murmured. “Sleep.” He reached his other arm over and pulled Sark in close too. Sark curled up against him, placing his head into the crook of Eric’s neck. Eric held both of them tightly to his body. “Let’s just sleep.”

***************************************************

When Eric woke up, he was alone, covered in twisted sheets. He passed his hands over the mattress a couple times before getting up and pulling on a t-shirt and boxers. Summer had hit L.A. and already the heat was sweltering. He thanked the gods for air conditioning as he left his room. 

He found Sark and Sydney sitting at the table, two mugs of coffee between them. Eric couldn’t feel any strong tension in the air, so he poured himself some coffee and sat down with them. “It was a little unsettling waking up to an empty bed, you know,” he joked. 

Sydney gave him a small smile. “We thought we should let you sleep,” she said softly. She was wearing one of his t-shirts and a pair of his shorts. She was dwarfed in the huge clothes and looked adorable for first thing in the morning. “After…”

“Yeah, that wasn’t the best way to get to sleep,” he scratched his head, trying to keep the mood light. He really wanted to talk about what had happened, but he didn’t want to start it all over again. Right now Sydney seemed to be in a more receptive mood than she had last night, but he wasn’t sure how long that would last. She had every right to be angry with Eric, but she had handled it badly with her actions. He just had no idea how to say it to her without destroying whatever they had: their friendship, a chance at a relationship; hell, even just staying on good terms while working together. He knew Sydney, knew how stubborn she could be, and she had been hurt so much, he didn’t know what this would do to her. 

Sark cleared his throat. He drained the last of his coffee, then left without a word. Eric looked at Sydney. “That’s not a good sign.”

“I asked for this time alone,” she covered his hand with hers. “Just thought it would be easier if _we_ just talked.” She drew back her hands and crossed them nervously in front of her. “Except now everything I wanted to say seems worthless. Even an apology.”

Eric raised an eyebrow at her. “Don’t think you can get out of this with that innocent routine, Syd. We both deserve explanations for what happened.” He took a sip of his coffee and looked hard at her. She shifted a bit under his stare. “I’m waiting.”

“Okay. Um, okay. Yeah. I, uh, look…hmmm.” She crossed and recrossed her hands, reaching for her coffee, then putting it back down. Eric just kept staring at her, watching her squirm and fiddle. “All right. What I did was stupid, and yeah, I know that and all, and…it’s just…I was so shocked, especially after all the craziness and all.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Damn, why was this so easy in my head? It’s just a couple of simple words, and I know what I did was wrong, but…I just don’t want to say it without some kind of _meaning_ behind it. I mean, I can say I’m sorry until I turn blue in the face, but how do I make you realize that I really, really, really am sorry?” she finished off softly. 

She slumped back, her face miserable. “Eric, I screwed everything up so badly, and I didn’t want that to happen. It just feels like I lost you before I even had a chance. And now it’s been done and there’s nothing we can do to turn back time.”

Dang. He wanted to stay pissed at her for a while, but he knew she was really sincere in her repentance. Besides, he could tell this was really weighing down on her, and he didn’t want to let her suffer under his anger, since she’d already be regretting this for a long time. 

He took her hand in his and rubbed his thumb around her wrist as he explained it all to her. He told her about the dreams, the sexual tension, everything that had built up to that night. “Look, Syd, I never meant to hurt you with all this, but can you tell me how in the hell I was supposed to just drop all this onto you, telling you about something that I really don’t understand myself? I didn’t know you would be so mad, but then again, I didn’t know you felt anything like this for me. You’re not the world’s most open person sometimes.”

“I know,” she sighed. “But I didn’t want you to push me away, because you thought I was just using you as a substitute or something like that. I really do like you, Eric. _You_ , the great guy who has been my closest friend for a year now. And if you didn’t feel the same, that would have really hurt me.”

“Yeah, but Syd, you have to realize that you weren’t the only one to risk your feelings. I mean, I’ve liked you for a long time, even years ago when you and Mike were together. If I had thought I had chance one with you, I would have told you, a million times over. But you never even gave me that chance. Look,” he let go of her hand and sat back, “maybe this is the time we should talk about our relationship. Now is the time to be open, so we can figure out exactly where we stand here. I don’t think either of us want to go through something like _that_ again.”

Eric caught sight of some movement beyond the kitchen and he smiled. “Hey man, you can stop eavesdropping now and come back in.”

Sark slowly reentered the room, one eyebrow arched. “I wasn’t eavesdropping,” he said casually, but Eric prodded his leg with his foot as Sark sat down and Sark grinned at him. “So, we’ve all kissed and made up?” he asked.

Eric looked over at Sydney. “We’ve…come to an understanding,” he said, and Sark nodded. The three of them looked at each other for a while before Eric spoke again. “Well, as much as I’m enjoying the awkward silences around here, it’d be nice for a little chatter once in a while.”

Sydney giggled. “What do you want us to ‘chatter’ about? When we’re all going to end up in bed together again?”

Eric had been taking a sip of coffee, but he choked when she spoke. He stared at Sydney, and even though she was smiling mischievously, her eyes were serious. He glanced over at Sark and saw that the blond was hiding behind his mug. “Ok, kids, I’m missing something here, aren’t I?”

“We came to an understanding ourselves this morning,” Sydney replied. “We both want you, you want both of us. I’m not going away, and apparently, neither is Sark. So we’re going to time-share you.”

“Huh? Why do I suddenly feel like I’m up for auction here?”

“I think what Sydney’s trying to say,” Sark broke in, “is that we’re not going to make you choose which person you’d rather be with. I like you,” he said almost shyly. “I know you…like me too. And we know how we both feel about Sydney. With this arrangement, no one gets left out, no one is better than the other, no one is jealous.”

Eric scratched his head in confusion. “And you agreed to this?” he asked Sydney.

She smirked. “What, two cute guys lavishing attention on me and each other? I know, it seems a little wild, but you only live once. Don’t you want to find out what it’s like?”

“Well…” he started, but he was cut off when Sydney slid over and sat on his lap, lifting his head for a kiss. He moaned, enjoying his first taste of her, tongue stroking hers softly. When she pulled away his eyes were hazy. “Okay,” he said, not even caring about much else. She gave him a smile and kissed the tip of his nose. 

“I’m sorry to do this, but I have to run. But I will be back later today, just for…whatever,” she winked, then jumped up and left. 

Eric licked his lips, then drew his chair closer to Sark’s. “Isn’t that nice of her, to run off leaving me all hot under the collar?” He dipped his head and kissed Sark’s neck. 

“Oh, and I suppose you want me to do something about it?” Sark retorted, but he was squirming slightly under Eric’s hands on his chest. “Hmm. I believe I can help.”

“Good,” Eric murmured, before hauling him up and walking them back to the bedroom.

**************************************

It was Sunday afternoon a few months later, Eric, Sydney, and Sark lounging around the bed as usual. The fat Sunday newspaper was laid out in various sections around them. Sark was sitting up against the pillows, reading the news section. Sydney was sprawled out across the foot of the mattress on her stomach, the lifestyles section spread in front of her, a lock of hair twisted around one of her fingers. Eric was half-sitting, half-lying between both of them with the comics. One of Sydney’s legs was wrapped around his and Eric was using Sark’s lap to prop his head up. The early autumn sun spilled into the room and warmed the inhabitants, leaving them in a sleepy daze. 

Sydney flicked over a page and refolded her paper. “Pass me something else,” she murmured, her eyes blinking lazily.

“Okay,” Eric poked through the other sections next to him. “What’d you want?”

His cell phone rang, cutting of Sydney’s reply. Eric made a small grumbling noise before getting up and grabbing it. “Hello?”

“Agent Weiss, I’m sorry to disturb you on the weekend,” Dixon’s voice came through the earpiece. “But I was just informed about our success with the last mission. I’ve been in contact with the senior directors and with the news of this latest accomplishment, they’ve agreed to a pardon agreement for Sark, with the condition that he becomes an agent. I just thought I’d inform you so you can make arrangements as soon as possible, to find him a place of his own.”

“All right, thanks,” Eric said guardedly. He clicked the phone closed and put it down slowly.

Sydney rolled onto her side and was looking at him. She raised her eyebrows. “What?” she asked.

Eric rubbed his chin, frowning slightly. “That was Dixon,” he started. Sark laid his paper down on his lap. “He just wanted to let me know that Sark’s is getting a pardon. And that he…doesn’t need babysitting anymore.”

Sydney frowned as well. Sark just picked up his paper again. Sydney poked him. “Don’t you care?” she asked.

Sark flipped to another page. “I already knew.”

“What?”

“Well, not for certain, but I had an idea. Director Dixon told me the other day that if we were successful with the last mission, they would consider some sort of new arrangement for me. A reward for being a good boy for this long.” Sark refolded his knees, but didn’t look up. “I’ve been suspecting they would do this for a while now.”

Eric lay back against the pillows. “Well, I guess this is good news for you then, huh? You get all your money back now. Guess your first stop on Monday will be to the Armani store. Plus…” he trailed off, looking down at his lap. Sydney crawled over and held his hand, rubbing it softly. 

Sark closed his section and tossed it aside. He was reaching over for another one when he caught sight of Eric and Sydney. “Am I missing something here?”

Eric shook his head, “Nope.”

Sydney glared at him. “Yes you are. Eric’s just being stupid again.” Eric nudged her with his knee and was rewarded with a pinch on his hand. 

Sark looked slightly amused. “Mind telling me why?”

Sydney opened her mouth again, but Eric covered it with his hand and pushed her down. “Be quiet Syd. It’s nothing.” She glared at him and wriggled around, but he trapped her under his legs. She bit his finger and he wrenched his hand away. “Hey! Wasn’t very nice, Syd.”

Sydney rolled around under his legs. “Sark, Eric’s worried that now that you don’t have to stay here, you’re going to move out and leave him.”

Eric sighed and let her go. She rolled off the bed and left the room. Sark shifted over and laid a hand on Eric’s arm. “Is she right?” he asked.

Eric sighed again. “Sort of,” he mumbled. “I mean, now that you don’t have to be here, why would you stay? You can buy a nice big place, buy your own wardrobe and all. You know. The stuff you’ve been wanting all this time.”

Sark laughed suddenly. “I love it when you’re insecure.” He took Eric’s face between his hands and turned it so he could kiss the other man softly. Eric couldn’t help but kiss back, even though he felt a little sick. Sark pulled back, but kept his hands on Eric’s face. “Do you want me to move out?”

Eric blinked a bit. “Well, I’ve kinda got used to having you around. And it would be nice if you’d stay. You know.” He could feel himself blushing a bit. “But I don’t want you to stay just because you have to. I mean, you won’t have to worry about getting zapped anymore.”

Sark laughed again and shook his head. “I can’t believe you.” He reached over and grabbed the CIA watch, which had been sitting on the bedside table. He handed it to Eric, who shot him a quizzical look. “If you would pay attention, you’d notice that it only registers the date and time.” 

Eric poked at the various buttons, but just as Sark said, the rest of the features didn’t bother working. “Wha…when did this happen? And how did you know?”

Sark looked at him, grinning. “I disabled it the first night I stayed here.”

Eric looked up at him, stared into those blue eyes. “What? So why did you even bother staying here all this time then? You could have been free months ago!”

Sark rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling. He just leaned over and kissed Eric again. Eric pulled his head back a bit. “Wait, don’t tell me. You stayed because…you wanted to?”

“Yes, you big dummy,” Sark crawled over and straddled Eric’s lap before kissing him. Eric leaned back and pulled Sark on top of him, scratching his fingers down the bare back. Sark moaned and ground his hips hard against Eric’s. 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, you boys started the party without me,” Sydney bounced herself on the bed, stretching out beside them. She ran a hand up Sark’s back and into his hair, pulling him away from Eric. “Guess this means we’ve settled the issue,” she hummed as Sark kissed her neck, his hips still pressing into Eric’s. 

Sark captured her lips for a deep kiss before gently pushing her back. “I think we’ve paid you enough consideration lately, Sydney,” he said huskily. “Why don’t you practice your observation skills for a while?”

She sat up grinning, quickly shedding off her pajamas. She lay back down on her back, one arm tucked under her head and bringing the other hand up to travel the length of her silky torso. “Go ahead boys. Make my day.”

Eric grabbed for Sark again, running his hand down the other man’s chest in a familiar, possessive manner. Sark leaned down to kiss him again while Eric pulled at his boxers, suddenly impatient as hell for them to be naked. “Get these damned things off,” he grunted, and he could feel Sark laughing against his cheek. With a couple of twists and yanks, two pairs of boxers went flying. Eric could hear Sydney giggling at their enthusiasm. It turned him on to hear it and he chuckled himself. 

The chuckles turned to groans as Sark sat back on his knees and wrapped a hand around Eric’s cock, stroking him up and down slowly, too slowly. Eric thrust his hips frenetically, Sark’s hand tightening its hold on his shaft. He was mumbling, his eyes half-closed, watching Sark smile proudly at the effect he had on the bigger man. 

Eric grabbed the wrist that was moving up and down, pulling him away almost reluctantly. He sat up and kissed Sark hard. He could taste Sydney’s cherry lip-gloss and the unique minty flavour that Sark always seemed to have on him. He broke away and kissed down Sark’s body, loving the feeling of smooth skin under his lips and the salty tang of male sweat that clung to Sark’s chest. God, that mixture of tastes in his mouth was enough to drive him nuts, absolutely insane. Sark was gripping his shoulders roughly, and Eric heard moans, one distinctly female. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Sydney’s hands massaging her breasts, her hips rolling around. 

Fuck, but at this moment, Eric Weiss felt like the luckiest guy on earth. 

He finally reached his destination, bending over and licking over Sark’s erection coarsely. The growl that came from Sark’s throat made him smile wickedly. The first time Eric had tried this, he had been nervous as hell about doing it all wrong. It took about two seconds of Sark’s writhing madly before Eric realized the power this particular action had. He’d never admit it outside of the bedroom, but damn he liked sucking on Sark’s cock. 

Eric did it now, one hand firmly in the curve of Sark’s hip and the other wrapped tightly around the base of the penis. He took the swollen head in first, teasing a bit, just to get some kind of control, because he knew he’d be flat on his back in a few seconds here soon. Not that he really minded. He gave a vicious suck that had Sark cursing harshly, before running his mouth over the rest of the hard shaft. He deliberately licked leaving a trail of hot saliva, preparing Sark. The idea of getting any artificial lubricant didn’t even cross their minds anymore…this was a much better way. 

Sark emitted a very frustrated noise before hauling Eric up and shoving him back down flat. He pushed Eric’s legs open wide, shifted forward positioning their hips and his cock, then thrust hard. Both men cried out in ecstasy. Sark immediately began a strong rhythm, pistoning himself deep inside of Eric, making the darker man groan and lift his hips to meet the furious motions. Eric thrashed around, panting for air. He twisted his head to the side to watch Sydney. She was no longer kneading her breasts, but one hand was gripping the sheets and the other was buried between her legs, working madly against herself. Eric ran his own hand down her body and slid it down to join hers. He couldn’t see, from this angle, what he was doing, but her fingers grabbed at his and slipped them in the right place. He groaned and began to pump his hand in and out of her wetness, her fingers locked around his wrist guiding him. 

Sark bent over Eric, his hips still, and met him for a long heated kiss. Eric nearly passed out from lack of air, his whole body going limp. When Sark pulled back, sitting up on his knees and breathing hard, Sydney swung her body over, kneeling beside Eric’s prone body. As Sark began to move again, she bent over and took Eric’s throbbing cock into her mouth, making him shout with pleasure. She was still rocking her hips into Eric’s hand as her hand and mouth ran up and down the length of his shaft. If he didn’t come soon, he was going to go absolutely nuts. 

Sydney climaxed first around his fingers, when he tweaked her clit with the pad of his thumb. As the orgasm passed through her, she moaned and hummed around Eric’s dick, her teeth scraping along his flesh as she tried to keep her mind on finishing him off. Sark was thrusting erratically and with one last great effort, he pushed himself hard and groaned loudly, exploding inside of Eric. Eric followed soon after, the mixed feeling of Sark’s hot come inside and Sydney’s wet mouth around him sending him flying over the edge. He heard various exhausted sounds, his eyesight blurred with the over-stimulation of pleasure he had just received. Eventually two sweaty bodies curled up on each side of him, making a very happy and sated Weiss sandwich. 

When breathing got back to a semi-normal level, Sark reached an arm over Eric’s chest and poked Sydney lazily. “I thought it was your turn to watch, Bristow.”

Sydney mimicked his action, one silken arm draped across Eric. “Hey, if you’re feeling threatened by me _Julian_ …”

“Threatened by _you_ , Bristow? I think not.”

“Okay, children, do I have to separate you?” Eric said wearily and both of them giggled. They damn well _giggled_. Damn the Sunday afternoon sex shows; they were making them all sleepy and demented. “Let’s play nice, like we were a few minutes ago.” He heard two very contented sighs agree with him and he closed his eyes, ready for a good nap. Unfortunately, nature called at that moment and he groaned heavily before unraveling himself from the nice cocoon of warm flesh. He rolled over Sydney and bent over to grab at his boxers when another fit of giggles erupted from the bed. “Christ, what now?”

“Eric, you have newsprint all over your ass!” Sydney panted, her delirium increasing her laughter. He twisted himself around until he could see his back in the mirror. And there it was, black streaks all down the back of his torso. He looked over to his recently vacated spot on the bed and choked; in their sensual haste, they had forgotten to toss the Sunday paper to the floor and now it lay in tatters over his comforter. Well shit. 

He checked his ass out in the mirror again. “Guess I’ll be needing a shower,” he mused. 

Sydney got up, crossing over to him and running her hands over his shoulders. “I’ll go get the water warmed up,” she murmured, pulling his head down for a kiss. He contemplated throwing her up against the wall, but images of shower ran through his head and he gave her an exaggerated push out the door. He admired her naked body saunter out before jumping back on the bed, gathering up the newspapers and tossing them to the floor. 

He lay back and stretched out. “Much better,” he mumbled. He rolled on his side and began to run his nails down Sark’s bared back, waiting for the sensuous purr from the blond man. He worked Sark into a catatonic state, enjoying the laziness of the day. “If we’re gonna keep sharing like this, I’m gonna need a bigger bed.”

“You need a bigger apartment, period,” Sark murmured. “Too bad we tore the listings apart.” He opened one eye, humour radiated in the blue. Eric traced circles in the sensitive lower curve of Sark’s back and got a heated groan in return. “You mentioned a shower?” Sark said desperately, then pushed up off the bed, making sure to brush against Eric as he did.

Eric lay back and enjoyed his moment of solitude, listening to the tempting sounds coming from the bathroom for a second before getting up to join in. He took one last look at the disheveled bedroom and grinned. 

Oh yeah. No dream could ever beat the reality. 

_The End ;D_

**Author's Note:**

> It was my first time writing slash. It shows.


End file.
